


closer to wrong, no further from right

by blithelybonny



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco in Leather Pants, Draco's Birthday, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Veritaserum, Wall Sex, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco got busted and Ron's the Auror who gleefully gets to interrogate him under Veritaserum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	closer to wrong, no further from right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [This_Bloody_Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_Bloody_Cat/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY DRACO! HAPPY BIRTHDAY **this-bloody-cat**! CAPSLOCK LOVE TO ALL AND SUNDRY! Title is a lyric from the Seether song "Truth" which is all angsty and sad and has absolutely nothing to do with this bit of ridiculous smut except that I liked it. Fill for [THIS PROMPT](http://dracomalfoy.livejournal.com/989.html?thread=42717#t42717) at Draco's Tropes and Kinks Birthday Party!

Ron spoke aloud to his dicta-quill as he all but danced down the hallway towards the interrogation room. “Suspect is Malfoy comma Draco Abraxas, of Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, aged thirty-five, unmarried with no dependants. At oh two hundred hours, suspect was apprehended by undercover Auror Coleridge outside Bangarang, a nightclub for homosexual wizards located at fifteen-forty-two Drake Street, known colloquially as ‘Rainbow Alley’. Suspect attempted to purchase two vials of Aphrodititous Potion, known colloquially as ‘The Goddess’ or ‘Affie’ or ‘Love Junk’.”

He paused for a moment, when he realized that the giddiness in his tone probably wouldn’t look too good upon review, but honestly, he simply couldn’t help himself. It was hilarious enough that Malfoy had been caught down Rainbow Alley trying to buy club drugs, but Malfoy had also been blatantly flirting with the much younger Auror Coleridge, who outside of duty wouldn’t have given Malfoy the time of day and whose boyish good looks Ron...well, Ron didn’t have anything to say about the boy’s looks. Well, he was handsome, Ron would give him that. Fit, even, not that Ron was really looking. Objectively fit, anyway. Coleridge was certainly fit in an objective sort of way.

Ron laughed then. Malfoy still wouldn’t have stood a chance with Coleridge or with any of the other pixie club kids that liked to hang about at Bangarang, and it was completely hilarious that he’d even tried. He could only imagine a hopped up Malfoy laying it on thick when he tried to chat them up, only to be brutally rebuffed because he was old and lame.

But better than the mental image of Malfoy being embarrassed was the fact that Ron had clearance to question Malfoy under Veritaserum. Now Ron considered himself a fine Auror with only occasional lapses into ethically-questionable tactics, of which really he hadn’t gotten up to much once he’d entered his thirties, but this was far too juicy a situation to pass up. Malfoy, at his mercy, bound to speak only the truth.

“Suspect,” Ron continued, pausing just outside the door, “will be questioned under Veritaserum.” He barely managed to keep from laughing. Harry really wasn’t going to be amused if he cocked this up just because he was so excited about putting Malfoy in his place.

Malfoy was seated at the table, looking for all the world like he wasn’t totally up shit’s creek without a paddle. Well, perhaps the git was once again used to getting away with everything by either throwing money at it or relying on testimony from bleeding hearts like Ron’s two very best friends, but Ron was not about to let anything of the sort happen again. This was fairly cut and dry, and Malfoy was going to pay, plain and simple.

“Weasley,” Malfoy greeted pleasantly, as Ron went to the small side table and poured them each a glass of water.

“Suspect,” Ron replied, then bit down on his lip to quell his laughter.

“Now, now, let’s not pretend you don’t know me, Weaselbee.” Ron heard the scrape of Malfoy’s chair coming out from the table, and he whipped around quickly in anticipation of the attack, but all Malfoy had done was lean back and thrown one of his legs on the table, insolent as you please. “And let’s also not pretend that I’m not here on completely trumped up charges and will therefore be walking out of here in five minutes flat,” Malfoy continued airily.

“We’ll see about that,” Ron muttered, turning back around and pouring the customary three drops of Veritaserum into Malfoy’s cup. He turned back and swiftly walked to the table, where he placed Malfoy's cup on front of him. "Drink up."

Malfoy looked at the cup for a moment, and when Ron sat down across from him, raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Veritaserum?"

"Nothing but the best for you, Ferret. Now drink up," Ron replied. 

"Oh fine," Malfoy answered. He then picked up the glass and drank down the entire cup in three long swallows. Malfoy had rather a long neck, elegant really, if you were into that sort of thing.

Ron waited in silence, just observing Malfoy who looked completely unconcerned, and after a few long minutes, he began the interrogation. "What is your name?"

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy."

"Where do you reside?"

"Malfoy Manor, in Wiltshire."

"How old are you?"

Malfoy grimaced as he said, "Thirty-five, today."

Ron couldn’t resist. “So not twenty-six then like you told Auror Coleridge?”

“No, thirty-five,” Malfoy repeated, murderous.

“Are you married?”

“No.”

“What were you doing down Rainbow Alley at oh two hundred hours this morning?”

“Attempting to get high as a bleeding kite and pull someone far too young for me,” Malfoy responded quickly, the Veritaserum working its magic easily.

Ron bit down on a grin before continuing, “And aren’t you aware that it is a violation of Wizarding Britain Penal Code section five-hundred eighty-one, subsection twenty-four, paragraph two to brew, sell or purchase potions whose primary purpose are to cause intense feelings of euphoria, except as prescribed for medicinal purposes by a licensed Healer?”

“Well aware, but then, I’m a bad, bad man, Weasel,” Malfoy replied, his lips quirking up into a suggestive smirk. “But you’re aware of that too, I’m certain.”

“Well aware,” Ron answered, throwing Malfoy’s words back at him. He paused for a few moments, just watching Malfoy -- watching the way Malfoy pointed and flexed the foot that he still had insolently up on the table, watching the way Malfoy tilted his head and looked back at him through lowered eyelids, watching the way Malfoy ran his tongue over his lips like some kind of ridiculous harlot… “What are you doing?” he asked, forgetting for a moment that every question he asked would compel Malfoy to answer truthfully.

“Contemplating how you might look under that Auror kit of yours,” Malfoy responded. “Are you covered in those ridiculous freckles from head to toe?”

“No...well, yes, but they’re spaced out a bit--I mean--” Ron cut himself off quickly when he remembered that _he_ hadn’t drank any Veritaserum and didn’t need to answer a damn thing. Stupid Malfoy, and his stupid questions. “I’ll ask the questions, thank you very much.”

“I actually suspect you’re quite tan under there,” Malfoy continued, obviously unruffled. “Do they sort of melt together, or are they still there like a connect-the-dots sort of a puzzle? I’d quite like to get my tongue on them. Draw the constellations possibly. I bet you’ve got the dragon on you.”

“I...what?”

“Would you like that?” Malfoy dropped his leg down and leaned forward over the table, positively leering. “The dragon on you?”

Ron’s mouth dropped open, but no words came out.

“Or maybe you’d rather be on the dragon instead. I certainly wouldn’t mind,” Malfoy continued, as he rose from the chair and walked backwards, slithered really, until he was pressed up against the interrogation room wall. He cocked his head again and ran a hand over his stomach and slid lower, resting over his flies. “In fact, I’d love it. Wouldn’t you love it, Weasley?”

“Nnnghh--fuck,” Ron said, and then, with as much dignity as he could muster, added, “Malfoy, get back over here and sit down. We’ve got, er, that is, I’ve got questions--”

“Haven’t we all got questions? I’d rather have answers,” Malfoy replied, ripping the button from his flies open and sliding his hand inside.

There were three things that Ron knew, and one thing he thought: [one] Veritaserum was not supposed to make suspects slowly shed their skin-tight leather trousers and scrap of fabric that was pretending to be a tee-shirt; [two] Veritaserum was not supposed to make suspects brace themselves against the wall with the long column of their spines arched and their arses on display; [three] Veritaserum was really, really not supposed to make suspects whimper and moan and beg to be filled up with cock; and [four] Malfoy had the most perfectly fuckable arse he’d ever seen in his entire adult life.

He had followed protocol: only three drops in the standard-sized cup of water, wait three and a half minutes for total effectiveness, five control questions. Ron might have liked to have a bit of fun, but he certainly wasn’t going to totally ruin a professional investigation by mucking about with the Veritaserum.

“Malfoy, you--” Ron cut himself off and quickly cleared his throat of the embarrassing catch that had caused him to squeak like a pubescent boy. “Malfoy, I need you to put your clothes back on right now.”

“Do you?” Malfoy replied, canting his hips back and thrusting out his arse even further. “Because I don’t think you do actually. I think what you really need is to come over and do a cavity search.”

Flushing to his hairline, Ron willed the rest of his body to remember that Malfoy was a suspect, and also he was an evil git, and he wasn’t even the least bit attractive, and he certainly wasn’t Ron’s type anyway, and just because sometimes Ron like to go down Rainbow Alley and try to pull blokes half his age too did not mean that he and Malfoy were at all alike, and in fact, Malfoy was a complete tosser who was, fuckfuckfuck, clearly tugging on his cock and--

“That’s bloody more like it, Weasel,” Malfoy whispered, as Ron pressed up against him.

He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d gotten up and he definitely had no idea when he’d removed his Auror robes and undone his trousers, but there he was, and fuck, Malfoy’s arse. Fucking hell, that goddamned perfect arse.

Ron groaned as Malfoy pressed back against him, his cockhead catching on the tight rim of Malfoy’s arsehole. “Fuck,” he hissed between gritted teeth. “I don’t have...we haven’t got…”

“ _Accio_ Veritaserum! _Viscus!_ ,” Malfoy called out the spells in quick succession, and the bottle of potion would have smacked Ron in the head if he hadn’t quickly lifted a hand and caught it from the air. The potion was no longer its normal smooth liquid, but rather a syrupy substance that looked remarkably like Ron’s favored brand of lubricant.

“Did you turn the fucking potion into lube?” Ron asked, even as he uncorked the vial again and quickly poured some over his fingers.

“It’s a handy little spell,” Malfoy replied. “Now fuck me, you twat.”

“I’ll show you a handy little spell, you ponce,” Ron replied, as he slicked his cock and lined up against Malfoy’s rim.

“Doesn’t feel little to me,” Malfoy murmured, low in the back of his throat. Ron couldn’t help the moan of desire that escaped his lips at Malfoy’s tone. Later he supposed he would regret being so eager, would remember that this was fucking Malfoy and that he _was fucking_ Malfoy, but now, all Ron wanted was to bury himself inside that insanely perfect arse and stay there until the sun rose. “Well go on then, fuck me,” Malfoy added, wriggling his arse against Ron’s cock.

Malfoy was so fucking tight, hot and tight and slick and fuckfuckfuckingyes. Ron kept slowly pushing in until he was flush against Malfoy’s body, and Malfoy clenched against him,the fucking beautiful bastard. Only the thought that Malfoy would hold it over him for the rest of his natural born life kept Ron from coming just from that first thrust home.

“Are-- fuckfuckshit-- are you, god fucking damnit, Malfoy, I have to, are you okay, can I,” Ron wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say, so furious with need was he. He had to move. He absolutely needed to move.

“For fuck’s sake, Weasel!” Malfoy cried out and clenched again. “Either fuck me with it, or put it the fuck away!”

Ron wanted to rebel, he really did, against taking an order from bloody Malfoy, but his body had ceased responding to his brain quite a while ago. And so he did just exactly as Malfoy commanded, pulling back against the glorious slick friction of Malfoy’s hole until he was almost entirely out and back in again.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Malfoy moaned, as he spread his legs wider. Ron braced his arms on either side of Malfoy’s head for better leverage and fucked into him again, kicking up a bruising rhythm. “Harder, harder, fuck, you call that fucking?”

“I’ll -- show -- you -- _hard_.” Ron punctuated each word with a particularly brutal thrust in, and he could have sworn that Malfoy’s body was trying to keep him inside the way that magnificent arse clung to him every time he tried to pull back out again.

Malfoy leaned into the wall and one hand came down to stroke his cock. Ron gripped Malfoy’s hips and thrust in hard, burying himself again, and came with a cry. Seconds later, Malfoy’s arse gripped him tight again as Malfoy spilled over his own hand, milking Ron’s release further. Ron fell forward then and rested his forehead on the back of Malfoy’s head, burying his face in the pale strands.

“I still fucking hate you, by the way,” Malfoy said on a sigh. “That hasn’t changed.”

Too sated and shagged out to care, Ron weakly raised his hand from the wall and flipped him two fingers. He didn’t even bother pulling out until he had the chance to contemplate just exactly what he was going to put in his report to Harry.

_To: Head Auror H. Potter_  
From: Auror R. Weasley  
Re: Interrogation Notes from Arrest 1126D: Malfoy, Draco Abraxas 

_Suspect admitted to attempting to purchase illegal potions. Suspect was let go with a warning that a second offense would require stricter punishment. ~~Suspect seemed to like that.~~_

**Author's Note:**

> Return to my [LJ](http://blithelybonny.livejournal.com/117701.html)!


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